


Nightmares

by PhantasmaDormi



Series: Syndianite/Diacate [9]
Category: Mianite - Fandom, Mianite(Minecraft Series), Minecraft - Fandom
Genre: Characters are based purely on the youtube series, Dianite is a God, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Rare Pair, Tom is a zombie, Unrevised Older Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantasmaDormi/pseuds/PhantasmaDormi
Summary: Being reborn does not relieve you of your nightmares. Escaping death does not erase all you have seen in the void. And though Tom may not remember much from being in the empty blackness, his dreams do.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Old work from late July

It was no secret that many of the inhabitants of the land had nightmares. Jordan sometimes found himself back at The original Jerry’s tree, breathing in the smoke, watching it burn. Each time he'd wake in a cold sweat and would imagine a lingering smell of burning wood. In a way, he knew this was when he was forced to surrender a peaceful life.

Tucker dreamt of a family lost, not to death, but separation. His dreams taunted him with raging waves and cutting winds, the faces of his family, paralyzed, as he was on sturdy ground one moment, and in the air the next. He would bolt up gasping for air, choking on water long since emptied from his lungs. To this day his heart aches when he ponders if they survived the storm.

Sonja was haunted by the rattling of chains. Of the wretched smell of beer from the mouths of rich bastards, their filthy hands reaching for her tail, pawing at scandalous clothing. (She asked for it, they said, being so pretty. A pretty little pet, in a cage where she belongs). Her own screeching woke her more often than not. (And even now, with a careful, lobbing boyfriend, she can't forget how dirty she felt with their hands on her, wondering if she'd ever feel clean again).

Champwan, by far the quietest on the island, screamed the loudest at unknown horrors. He'd scream and cry, even after his voice gave out. But the look in Dec’s eyes, as he held the distraught man in his arms, one that had seen these faceless demons, spoke volumes of their strife. While no one asked, many wondered if the cause of these night terrors was the reason the two had traveled out to this distant land. (One day, perhaps, they'd learn the truth about Champwan, and perhaps they too, would lose faith in kindness of people).

Few knew if Nade or the Modesteps held such trauma, beyond the Dianitees and their god. If the bags beneath Nade’s eyes, and his strange nightly excursions held any clues, no one called him out on it. With the way the Modesteps were so viciously protective of each other, it was easy to guess what theirs would be about. No one felt safe to ask. 

(Tom, of course, knew what they dreamt about. The Dianitees, though not always together, were a close knit family. They knew what ate at each other, and it brought them closer. It would take death to rip apart the family they had found for themselves, and Dianite refused to let death take them from each other).

Almost everyone knew Tom dreamt of his death. Few, however, truly knew what this meant. It meant he could remember watching his friends, his comrades from years before he knew how to fight, die around him. He could see in his mind’s eye how each building burned. How each lost their support and crashed, bringing down wood and debris, the memories of families, the lives people had built for themselves. In comparison, the wedge driven through his heart meant little. It was a reprieve from watching his childhood fall, from the blinding rage and sorrow that threatened to drown him.

(These nights found him taking a walk, finding a place devoid of humans, and just destroying. He would rampage for hours, and then curl up wherever he was. Sometimes someone else would be out, and they would take him home, or back with them. Other times Dianite would bring him back with him. Regardless, words were never exchanged. They have no worth then).

Other times, with no discernible cause, he'd dream about the afterlife. About the fall into it. Being consumed by it. The screams of other souls being sucked in, their agony, and even the ones who were at peace, resigned, they never left him. He could remember the girl next to him with startling accuracy. She was at least twice his age, frail, sickly. Aged eyes and fading laugh lines. The entire way down she sobbed, “I never got to see my baby girl. I never got to see my baby girl.” (Once he came back, he made it his mission to learn how to be a mid-wife. To know the signs, know how to keep their health up).

The next part was both better and worse. It meant an end, a place to stop hurting. But it also meant experiencing all your feeling being ripped from you. Your hurt, anger, sadness, happiness, everything. Your body started to freeze over, become numb. (Though in reality, it was your soul losing its final grasp on life, your real body having lost everything moments before). The last thing you felt was cold before you were left to drift in nothingness. 

(He would always wake up cold with these nightmares. A bone deep chill that his soul would never forget entirely. After the first time, Dianite could always tell when these ones would come, for he'd do his best to get Tom awake before they went too far. Sometimes he couldn't. Though he always, always, stayed with Tom afterwards. With him there, he could let himself be warm again, could forget he wasn't supposed to be alive).

Though gods needed no sleep, Dianite sported his own nightmares. (As did the other gods, though they hardly shared their experiences. Jordan had once wondered if his lady ever dreamt about losing her heart, and he'd never know how close to the truth he was). Tom wasn't sure how his god experienced nightmares, but some part of him knew when he was having them. His gut would twist, and he would worry. No matter where he was, he would find a way to his god (most times he demanded he brought him to him, other times, when Dia refused, he would trek all the way to him). 

Though he had no idea what his love dreamt of, he always did his best to comfort him. (He could guess one issue, whenever Dianite found him wordlessly, clutching at him, never relinquishing his hold. He understood). These times were few and far between, but took at least a couple of days to recover from. (No matter how many times the Nether god claimed to be better, Tom knew when he actually meant it).

(In a much later time, Jordan relived the fall of his other goddess, almost every night, for months, and their newer friends felt the trauma of a world lost, and those lost with it. Tom, however, felt the force of both losing his god, and seeing his other god lying so eerily still (though, in a way, he wasn't alone in that). Dianite, his Dianite, never forgave himself for what happened to his sister, and his role in it (though, the other god never forgave either))


End file.
